Page 57 of Fortuitous Encounters

“Do tell,” Mary practically begged.

“The first, which I shared with him, is that I did not want to let them win,” she said carefully.

“An admirable sentiment,” Charlotte replied. “It shows just the right amount of hubris. And the second?”

“You must agree he is devilishly handsome. I just could not resist!”

~

The ride back to Netherfield seemed endless to Darcy, especially when the space of a quarter-hour required him to trade the very agreeable company of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her amiable friends, for the far less agreeable Miss Caroline Bingley and her obnoxious sister. It was a terrible bargain.

Bingley went on and on about ‘his angel,’ but since it was repetitious, and he knew no evil of Miss Bennet, it was no hardship to listen. At least, when Bingley was speaking, his sisters had to be momentarily silent. He had indirectly warned Miss Bennet via Miss Elizabeth, and though it was an untoward communication, he thought he had done as well as he could for both parties.

He judged he would give Bingley a fortnight to get over his infatuation. If he was still going strong, he would pull him aside and caution him to be certain he knew what he was about. A strong lecture on the fragilities of lady’s reputations might not be amiss either, especially since his friend was accustomed to the far higher levels of flirtation common in London; but that was a bridge he could cross if and when he came to it.

His sisters were horses of a different colour. Darcy mostly agreed with Bingley, who could reasonably assert that everybody had been most kind and attentive to him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt acquainted with all the room; and, as to Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel more beautiful. On that point, Darcy disagreed, but he had no argument with the rest, and he did not feel it worth his time to disabuse his friend of his obviously incorrect assessment of Miss Bennet’s beauty in comparison to her younger sister.

Bingley’s sisters, to the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom they had felt the smallest interest, and from none received either attention or pleasure.

Miss Bennet, they acknowledged to be pretty, and grudgingly suggested that they admired her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom they would not object to know more of. Their brother felt authorised by such commendation to think of her as he chose.

When they came to Miss Elizabeth, they had an entirely different story. They had no idea how well Darcy knew the lady, since he had not spent much time with her after their arrival, and much of that in company with Bingley. It had not escaped them that he danced the last with her.

Mr Darcy had never danced a significant set with Miss Bingley, or anyone else she knew of. She suspected if he had done so in London, it would be in the paper by morning.

However, since he had admitted to wearing a very clever disguise, both women decided he was just enjoying a lark, dancing with a country nobody who no doubt thought him a steward. His appearance had been noted in great confusion, and Miss Bingley had gradually convinced herself he did it for her, though his reasoning was hard to fathom.

Mrs Hurst adopted her sister’s way of thinking, mainly because it was the easiest way to live. There was little point in arguing with Caroline, and they depended on her brother’s largess, so there was no point rocking the boat.

Darcy added little to the conversation, and even Bingley had no idea what he had done before the party’s arrival (nor any ambition to find out), so nobody knew he had danced two sets with her. He wondered if anybody in her family was aware, and if they would come looking to inspect his teeth within the week.

They arrived, and while Bingley’s sisters carried on at some length, one gentleman slept through the whole thing; another ignored them because it was their usual nonsense, and he had much more agreeable thoughts.

The third man was anxious for his next meeting with Miss Elizabeth. He wanted to go through her deportment manuals to see if there were any prohibitions against strangling your hostess.

Cooling Their Porridge

Bingley and Darcy entered Lucas Lodge with identical missions: conversation with their chosen Bennet lady. Unfortunately, whilst both men had a considerable amount of luck, they were of opposite kinds. Bingley made a beeline for his favourite and had her undivided attention within minutes. Darcy had the undivided attention of Miss Bingley and was undecided about how much he was willing to abuse poor Miss Lizzy’s deportment manual in the service of being rid of her annoying presence.

He escorted her for a half-hour and would have found it quite a trial had he not seen Miss Elizabeth’s obvious amusement at his suffering. He thought her amusement was worth a bit of suffering if it came right down to it, but there were limits. He finally managed his escape in the most obvious and least subtle fashion imaginable.

“Sir William,” he asked jovially, “am I to understand you received your knighthood at St James?”

“Of course, Mr Darcy, but you must have danced there quite often.”

“I fear not, my good man. I have rarely attended much of anything there. Perhaps you can tell me about it. It must have been quite a speech you made for the king. You might give me the outline in broad strokes.”

He noticed Miss Lizzy laughing as she walked by right after his arch-nemesis finally left him in peace, favouring commiserating with her sister over hearing about St James.

He finally escaped Sir William, but in a bid to not be too obvious, he wandered about the room speaking here and there to people he met at the assembly while listening to Miss Elizabeth speak to her friends. It did not require all that much effort since she always kept herself within easy hearing distance. He was not exactly certain what they were doing, but if common sense suggested they were flirting, he would have a tough time arguing against the thesis. He was uncertain where it might be heading but satisfied to see how things turned out in their own time.

He was just enjoying some of the teasing banter aimed at Colonel Forster, the local militia commander, so he was caught off guard when she launched a surprise frontal assault.

“Did you not think, Mr Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?”

Caught flatfooted, he replied with the first thing that popped into his head. “With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a lady energetic.”

“You are severe on us,” she replied with an impertinent smirk, just short of a smile.